Joy Lives

Joy lives like a Jonquil in winter,just beneath the surfaceand still very alive.Invisible sometimes, yes-here memory assists(of a pitcher filled withsunny bloomson the old farm kitchen table.)Inaudible, maybe, yes...we supply our own song.And then, as promised, yes,full fragrance, color, lightrise through the pregnant darkness,lifting higher into Yes.Joy lives, poisedin all that is possible, yes,and the sweet splendor of the now.That is to say, oh yeshere and forever-more.